Sherlock Holmes and the Great Clock of Westminster
by Foxcat93
Summary: A woman comes to Holmes for help locating a missing man. The plot includes a stolen gemstone, the British Museum, a night watchman, and the Great Clock of Westminster, Big Ben. Please see my profile for background on the story. Please read and review!
1. A Job

_Please see my profile for background notes and disclaimers concerning this story._

**Sherlock Holmes and the Great Clock of Westminster**

CHAPTER 1 - A Job

It was May, 1899. The sun had just set and a thick fog settled over London. One could see only a short bit ahead. Big Ben sounded its ponderous chime from a distance.

A tall man stood in a doorway, his black cloak swirling about him as the wind picked up a bit. His tall silk top hat made him look even taller. He was waiting for just the right time and just the right person.

In a run down section of the city, a man was kissing a young woman goodbye for the evening, heading for his job. The woman was his "girl," the one he intended to marry once he had enough money saved. He was a small man wearing a bowler and carrying a cane. His shirt boasted a wing collar and four-in-hand tie. His clothes were clean, but worn. He pressed a bit of money into her hand for the morrow's groceries. He sauntered off with an odd, but sprightly step, as the young woman looked after him with a worried look. Somehow she had an ominous feeling tonight, for no reason.

The small man passed the doorway where the tall man in the cape was standing. He tipped his bowler in greeting, but the man merely watched him, with no attempt at returning his greeting. The small man kept on walking, idly listening to the sound of his own footfalls on the cobblestones as he walked. Soon he became aware of another set of footfalls from behind him.

After walking a bit further. and still hearing the footfalls behind him, the small man turned around. It was the tall man in the swirling cloak. The small man waited for the stranger to catch up to him. "Are y' followin' me?" he asked.

"Yes, my good man. I have been observing you. I need a man to complete a job for me…you look reliable. I pay well…"

"I awready 'ave a job, Suh," said the little man in a soft voice. "On me way there now…"

"This would be a one time job. I am willing to pay you £100."

"100 pounds?" The little man could hardly believe his ears. "Wha' do y' wan' me t' do, Suh?"

"What time do you finish work in the morning?"

"Shoul' be on me way by 'alf pas' seven…"

The tall man handed the small man a piece of paper. "Come to this address straight from work and you will be told what to do. By the way, what is your name?*-"

The little man was staring at the paper. He looked up. "It's Charlie. Me nyme's Charlie…" He looked down at the paper again. He was holding it upside down.

"You don't know how to read do you, Charlie?"

"Well, uh…" Charlie mumbled a bit.

"Never mind, it's not important. Will you be able to remember the address if I tell you?"

The small man nodded. The tall man read him the address and Charlie memorized it. "Who shoul' I say sent me if yer ain't gonna be there?"

"I shall be there…no worries…and the name is Moriarity." The tall man turned with a swish of his cape and disappeared into the foggy darkness.

Charlie smiled and put the paper into his coat pocket. He walked faster so as not to be late for work. He couldn't believe his good fortune…£100 for a one time job! He had often gone hungry so he could give his girl money to buy food and to take care of her ill father. Even though Charlie's job as a night watchman was steady work, it didn't pay much. His girl Emily took in washing and mending to help make ends meet, but she worked hard for so little money. This would be a windfall!


	2. Missing

CHAPTER 2 - Missing

Emily awoke at her usual hour of six o'clock as Big Ben chimed ponderously in the distance. She readied breakfast for her father and herself and set the usual extra place for Charlie. Charlie, who lived across the way, in a dingy flat, always stopped by after work for breakfast with Emily and her father.

Big Ben chimed the hours of seven and eight o'clock. Charlie was late! Nine o'clock came and went, followed by ten and eleven. The day went by with the ponderousness of the clock's chiming. Fear gripped Emily's heart. Charlie was never late. He was very meticulous about time, living within the sound of Big Ben's voice and always carrying his pocket watch. Emily knew it was probably too soon to panic, but she had had a dread feeling last evening and she trusted her feelings. Her heart wasn't in her work today and she got only a small quantity of the mending and washing done.

Helping her father to bed, she breathed a silent prayer that Charlie would come home quickly. She kept looking over to see if there were a light in Charlie's window. She went over and knocked on Charlie's door. There was no answer, and she opened the door, calling his name. His flat was empty; he was not about. She decided she must look for him…perhaps the police could help. It was nearly` 10 pm, the time Charlie usually left for work.

Adjoining her own flat was the home of a good friend of Emily's. Susan was a spinster, with no children or husband of her own.

"Susie, couldja look in on me father later t' see if 'e needs anythin'? I 'ave a impor'nt thing I mus' do…"

"Be glad t' 'elp, Em…"

"'Ope t' only be away f' a bi'," said Emily. "Susie, Charlie ain't back from work…it ain't loike 'im…" Susan hugged Emily and wished her good luck.

Emily wasn't sure where to start looking, so she went to the police. The constable who spoke to her was non-committal. He seemed unconcerned since Emily's friend had been missing less than twenty-four hours. He hinted that Charlie may have just decided not to come home, perhaps move on…And it wasn't as if they were married, according to the constable. Emily couldn't help herself; she started to cry. She felt something terrible may have befallen her beloved.

"Perhaps you might see Mr Holmes…" suggested the constable.

"Mr 'Olmes?" repeated Emily.

"Mr Sherlock Holmes. He's a consulting detective. If anyone can find your friend, he can. His quarters are at 221B Baker Street. Do you know how to find that?"

Emily nodded and thanked him. She knew where Baker Street was and had heard of Mr Holmes. She also didn't think she could afford to hire a detective, but it didn't hurt to ask his consulting fee.

* * *

Early that same morning, Dr John Watson, friend, confidant and chronicler of Mr Sherlock Holmes' cases, arrived at 221B Baker Street. He climbed the seventeen steps to the flat, knocked and entered. Holmes was sleeping, slouched in a leather chair by the fireplace. At Watson's entrance, he awoke.

Before Watson could say a word, Holmes ran his fingers through his hair and sat up in the chair. He picked up a wrinkled piece of paper from a table at his side and shook it at Watson. "Read this!" he demanded.

On the piece of paper were written several words and phrases:

_Catastrophe_

_The Great Clock of Westminster _

_priceless gem_

_unknown criminal, done in by his own dastardly deed_

_Vanished in the wink of an eye_

_fortunate demise._

Watson looked up at Holmes after reading the odd handwritten note. "Is it the notes for a fictionalized story? Is it in code?" Watson glanced down at the words again. He turned the note over. There was nothing written on the back of it and the edges were dirty and torn. "Where did it come from, Holmes?"

"Jim brought it to me late last night. He said it was flying about in the wind and he idly picked it up. He thought it might be important. Thank goodness the little fellow can read."

Jim was one of the street urchins that Holmes often employed to bring him information. They were his ears and eyes on the streets of London. They often knew before anyone else when something was afoot. They knew any information would be accepted gladly and they would be given a coin in return. When Dr Watson had seen that Jim, a very intelligent and trustworthy boy, really wanted to learn to read, he had taken the time to teach him, over the course of quite some months. The time had obviously been well spent.

"Now look at this." Holmes picked up the morning newspaper and handed it to Watson who took the paper and read out loud from the headlining article: _May 3__rd__, 1899. Only this morning, the Blue Diamond of Casablanca arrived safely at its temporary home in the British Museum. The Museum is proud to host the famed diamond which is expected to bring in hoards of visitors to see the great gemstone during its two-month stay, on loan from the exotic country of Morocco. It is on the last leg of its round-the-world tour._

_Its value is disputed, but some experts have said that it may be worth well over five million pounds sterling. One of the largest in the world, the light blue cast of the diamond can be viewed with special lighting in the exhibit, designed to bring out the exquisite colour, so all visitors can be dazzled by its beauty._

_Lest one think that the Blue Diamond would be an easy item to steal, the already formidable security of the British Museum has been enhanced by the hiring of six extra guards at the Museum who, between them, will be with the Diamond 24 hours a day. In addition, modern technology has provided a fool-proof mechanical security system that boggled this reporter's mind when he beheld it._

"_There may well be long lines of those wishing a glimpse of the famed gemstone, so it is advisable to come early."_

"I would think anyone would be a fool to try to steal this gemstone," said Watson.

"Indeed," said Holmes. "But none-the-less, I believe it prudent to keep our ears and eyes open."

"The handwritten note lists a "priceless gem"…is it the Blue Diamond?"

"It would be a logical conclusion…"

"What could these words and phrases mean?"

"What do you think it means, Watson?"

Watson took another look at the paper, then glanced up again at Holmes. "It's odd. Why would the Great Clock be mentioned and the gemstone too? What does catastrophe and unknown criminal mean? How about the criminal and his dastardly deed and perhaps 'his' fortunate demise? Is there a hidden message?"

"I have looked for a message hidden within or a code. I don't believe there is one. It wasn't meant for our eyes, in any case," said Holmes in a musing tone. Watson sat down again to read the rest of the paper. It sounded as if Holmes knew or suspected something else. Holmes would tell him in his own good time.


	3. A Visitor

CHAPTER 3 - A Visitor

That same night, just after the Great Clock had struck ten in the evening, Holmes rose from his chair and strode to the window, putting tobacco in his pipe and lighting it.

"We have a visitor who may shed some light on this for us, Watson."

Shortly, Mrs Hudson, Holmes' housekeeper, rapped on the door. "Mr Holmes…"

Watson let Mrs Hudson in, along with a small, young woman. "Mr Holmes, a lady to see you." She left and closed the door behind. The young woman looked apprehensive and timid.

Obviously wearing her best clothes, the woman was dressed in a long dark blue dress and matching bonnet. It had a bit of lace at the high neckline and she wore a black shawl about her shoulders. Her black button shoes were worn, but clean. Her gloves were ragged at the fingertips and she made an effort to hide them behind her small handbag.

Watson introduced himself and Holmes, who was still gazing out the window, as if he had not seen the woman. Watson graciously showed her to a chair. She smiled gratefully at him. Holmes, saying nothing for a moment, then turned to gaze at the young woman. Holmes, who could be abrupt and abrasive at times, for once was gentle; he could see that it had taken all of this woman's courage to come here. He slowly walked over to his chair near the fireplace, looking at the young woman intently before he spoke. He sat down.

"Yes, my good lady, how can I be of service to you? I see that you have walked a distance to see me and you have a pressing problem on your mind…"

The young woman said, "I'm Emily Denison, Suh; and, th' man I am t' marry soon 'as disappeared…I been t' th' police; they ain't able t' 'elp me…Mr 'Olmes, c'n y' foind 'im? It ain't loike 'im t' be late…I know somethin' 'appen t'im!"

"Miss Denison, be calm. Tell Mr Holmes the facts," said Watson, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I don't 'ave no money t' pay y' roigh' now…bu' I promise, I shall pay ye…"

"Don't worry about the fee, Miss Denison," said Holmes. "Tell me about your future husband. What does he look like…what does he do for a living…where was he going when he disappeared?"

"Charlie is abou' fi' foot, six inch, thin, wi' dark curly 'air, small moustache, walks a bi' odd. 'E's older than me…'e's 28 year old. 'E was goin' t' work las' night 'bout ten o'clock pm was th' las' toime I seen 'im. Works night's at th' Bri'ish Museum."

Watson glanced at Holmes when their visitor said, "British Museum." Holmes acted as if it were of no consequence.

"Now you say he was "late;" just how late?

"'E always comes 'ome direc'ly after work, takes 'im thir'y minutes t' arrive 'ome… I prepare breakfas' fer 'im an me father an' mese'f…'e was due this mornin' between eight an' quart'r past."

"So, he's been missing since eight this morning, is that correct?" asked Watson. "And you have not seen him since last night at ten o'clock."

"Yes, Suh," said Emily.

"What makes you think that something has happened to him, dear lady?" asked Holmes, as he steepled his fingertips.

Emily looked down at her own fingers enclosed in her tatty gloves. She seemed uncomfortable. "It's a feelin'; just a feelin', Mr Holmes. A turrible portent I 'ad when 'e left me las' night fer work."

"But you have no real facts to give me, is that correct, Miss Denison?"

"No, Suh, I ain't."

Holmes stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. Emily looked from Holmes to Watson, looking for one of them to give her a shred of hope. "C'n y' foind 'im, Mr 'Olmes?"

"If anyone can find him, Mr Holmes surely can," said Watson, echoing the police constable's sentiments. He saw Emily to the door and down the steps.

"Do you have a way to get home, Miss Denison?" asked Watson.

"I'll be walkin', Suh," said Emily. "Ain't far…"

"There's a cab coming…" said Watson, as the clip-clop of a horse was heard on the cobblestone street. Watson waved the cab over and paid the man. "Take this lady home…she will tell you her address."

"Thank y', Dr Watson, thank y'" said Emily, gratefully as Watson gave her a hand to enter the cab.

Holmes stood at the window watching and puffed on his pipe.

* * *

The previous morning, after work, Charlie had arrived at the address that Moriarity had given him. It was a warehouse and he tried one of the doors. It opened. It was dark and he took a couple of steps inside. The door shut behind him and completed the darkness. He turned around, becoming a bit disoriented and a little unnerved.

Slowly from a distance, a small dot of light showed itself and became larger as footfalls and their echoes were heard in the distance, but coming closer. It was a candle held by Moriarity. He arrived with two large and rough looking men. One of them lit several gas lights on the wall which brightened up this end of the large main warehouse room considerably. Moriarity blew out the candle.

Moriarity smiled at Charlie, not a friendly smile. "I see you've arrived exactly on time. Excellent. Come with me." He led the way to a small room that appeared to be an office, with papers piled everywhere. He told Charlie to sit and the two henchmen took places just outside the door.

"Wha' y' wan' me t' do? Wha' kinda job is thi'?" said Charlie, plainly impatient, and feeling slightly uncomfortable about the two thugs just outside the door.

"Have patience, my good fellow," said Moriarity. "Now, you told me that you work at the British Museum. How fortunate for you…and for us. You have, of course, heard of the Blue Diamond of Casablanca?"

"Yeah. Bein' shown in a special place in th' Museum…on loan f' th' showin'…" The little man frowned. "Wha' does tha' 'ave to do wi' me?"

"You see, my good man, I wish to possess the Blue Diamond of Casablanca. And the only way to do that is to steal it."

"Steal it?" Charlie shook his head. "No, I ain 't tellin' y' 'ow t' do tha'….besoides, there's armed men guardin' th' Diamon' ever' hour o' th' day."

"My good man, you don't have to tell me how to do it. Now, there are armed guards with the diamond at all times, as you said. Where do you work in the Museum?"

"I 'ave me rounds, all abou' th' Museum…night watchman. Them chaps guardin' th' Diamond're in addition, extra…"

"Charlie, my dear fellow, you are going to steal the Diamond for us."

"No, I ain't stealin' nothin'!"

"Yes, you are!" Moriarity took out a revolver and aimed it menacingly at Charlie's face. Although frightened, the small man didn't flinch. Neither did he given in.

"I won't never steal tha' Diamond…never!"

"And pass up the chance for £100?"

Charlie hesitated. "Even if y' offer me more…I shan't do it!"

"A man with such morals…one does not come across that very often. But it won't do you any good." He beckoned for one of the thugs. "Now!" The thug took his gun and hit Charlie on the head sharply with it. The ragged little man slumped over immediately. The two thugs carried him out of the warehouse, following Moriarity's instructions.


	4. A Threat

CHAPTER 4 - A Threat

Charlie woke up sometime later with a great bump on his head and a rather bad headache. There was a blindfold tied about his eyes. He was sitting in an unfamiliar corner. He made a move to stand up, then realized that his hands and feet were tied with rope. He tried to remember where he was, but could not. The last thing he remembered was speaking with Moriarity. He tried to wriggle loose from his bonds, to no avail.

He felt cold and uncomfortable. A cool breeze whistled eerily about his head and he shivered.

He stopped to listen to his surroundings. A clicking of machinery was heard, which became quite loud.

Several minutes later, the great clock began to chime. After the Westminster chime was finished, the clock's great bell, Big Ben, sounded the hour with its slow and ponderous chime. The sound was so loud that the little fellow felt the sound echo inside his head almost painfully.

The morning following Emily Denison's visit, Watson was still wondering if there was indeed a plot afoot.

"Is there a threat to the Blue Diamond or the Great Clock, Holmes?"

"I am certain that there is a connection."

"How does Emily's intended fit into this, Holmes?"

"Night watchman at the British Museum…a logical choice to steal the Blue Diamond."

"But the crime, if there is to be one, hasn't happened yet. It may never happen."

"We need to find this Charlie's whereabouts….where he was last seen…perhaps this crime can be prevented."

Holmes strode to the door, opened it and paused momentarily to say, "I shall return this afternoon."

"Holmes?" said Watson. But the detective was already out the door and flying down the steps.

* * *

Professor James Moriarity sat thinking. He was in his warehouse hideout where he had lured the little night watchman earlier. His two large henchmen stood watching the doors, ready to take action at any moment. However, they were both very bored with inaction. All the professor wanted to do was think.

"Prof, how are you goin' to steal the diamond if that little tramp fella won't do it for you?"

The professor glanced over at the rough-looking man and gave him a sinister smile. "Hunter, he will do it. No one ever refuses Moriarity what he wants.

"What's the clock go to do with all this, Prof?" asked the other thug.

"MacShayne, don't you see the reason for this? You point someone in one direction and then take the other while they are searching in the place they think you to be. Magicians use it all the time. It's called 'slight-of-hand'. I am a magician of the finest order." He looked thoughtful again. "And to think that our crimes will be blamed on someone else. We shall abscond with the diamond. A marvellous plan, don't you think, MacShayne?"

MacShayne nodded. "Yeah, Prof, a marvellous plan." Of course, neither of the thugs understood. But they knew any plan hatched by the Professor would be impeccable. Moriarity, a cruel but very intelligent man, had many minions at his beck and call. A veritable network of the underworld was ready to do his bidding at a moment's notice.


	5. Where is he?

CHAPTER 5 -"Where is he?"

A tall bent figure was seen that day walking through London, from the west to the east end, speaking with many people. He wore a patched and shabby frock coat and carried a gnarled wooden cane, which he leaned on heavily. He wore a scraggly beard and his large shapeless hat hid much of his face. He looked a bit unsavoury. He seemed almost a character out of one of famous author Charles Dickens' works.

Watson was looking out of the window onto the street below, wondering where Holmes was. It was so late that the lamplighter was already illuminating the gas street lamps with his long pole. Watson glanced at a Dickensian figure slowly approaching the door of 221B and heard the voices below as the visitor spoke with Mrs Hudson.

Watson was expecting Mrs Hudson's knock and introduction of the visitor; instead the door was flung open and closed in the wink of an eye. Holmes pulled off the shapeless hat and threw it and the cane onto the closest chair. He pulled off the wig and went to the sink to carefully detach the false beard, moustache and eyebrows that gave him the Dickensian look.

"Holmes…excellent disguise…I really didn't know it was you for a moment."

"I would dare to say it was more than a moment," replied Holmes, removing the spirit gum from his face in front of the looking-glass.

"Yes, quite," replied Watson. "So what did you find out, Holmes?"

"I found out that our little friend Charlie was seen talking to a certain tall gentleman in a top hat and black cloak prior to the morning he disappeared. Later, two large burly men were seen carrying a large canvas bag from a warehouse. The two were recognized by several people who stayed out of their way, knowing them to be underworld thugs. I did get names, Hunter and MacShayne.

"I found the warehouse. All the doors were locked, but I picked the lock of the door where the two thugs had been seen exiting. Very dark within, I lit a lantern that I found inside the door and made my way through the place. Several rooms off the larger warehouse showed signs of recent human occupation. Checking the trash is always a very good idea to see who has been about. Judging from the food remnants, the place had been occupied for several days. It was beginning to be a bit odoriferous. Dust can also be your friend, on the floor and on tables or other surfaces.

"I found footprints of four different men who had been there recently. They had stayed for several days and vacated the premises shortly before I arrived. Here are several things found in the trash:" (Holmes removed several pieces of paper from his tattered coat pocket and handed them to Watson) "I found a piece of paper with the address of the warehouse on it. I also found another paper with writing on it. This one was interesting for it had words scratched out and others written in. Obviously a first draught. I also found several very large canvas bags."

"How do you know for a fact that it is Moriarity?"

"His handwriting, Watson. The paper Jim founds was obviously copied from this version. I dare to say if we would check further, his fingerprints would be found on the paper. At this point, it's not necessary. I shall keep them, however."

"And the abduction of Charlie, how do you know he is behind that?"

"I suspect that the large canvas bag the thugs were carrying held none other than our little night watchman. I measured one of the bags. Certainly large enough to carry a man. And I found this."

Holmes took out an envelope in which there were two longish curly black hairs. "According to Miss Denison, her Charlie has curly black hair. What do you think of the other paper I handed you?"

"The address of the warehouse…" Watson looked at the handwriting. It was the same as the other note. "Same handwriting, Holmes…the paper is unremarkable, plain on the back…"

"Why would someone have the address to a place at which they had been staying written on a paper?"

"So they would not forget?"

"Unlikely. It would be to give to someone who didn't know the address. I suspect it was given to our missing night watchman."

"Yes, logical…" said Watson. "So what is your next move, Holmes?"

"We must prevent the robbery and we must find Charlie before he is harmed."

"So where is he?"

"That is our dilemma at the moment, my dear chap."

* * *

The previous morning, Charlie had been still struggling with the ropes that bound him. Because his boots were very oversized for his feet, was able to slowly push them off his feet. Then the ropes remained, but much looser and he was able to push them off from around his ankles.

His hands were a different matter. Still sitting, and still blindfolded, the little night watchman was able to put his feet between his tied hands and he explored the bonds with his fingers and toes. Little by little, he was able to loosen the knot and it came off. He pulled the blindfold off and was astounded. It almost took his breath away to see where he was.

Charlie was in the bell tower of the Great Clock of Westminster! He could see the great bell nicknamed Big Ben. No wonder the bells were so deafening. He put his shoes back on and looked out through the open spaces between the stone. They were covered with a wide wire fence-like material through which the sound of the chimes and Big Ben could be heard throughout London. No wonder he was cold. He was up very high, about 300 feet. The wind was cold up here as it whipped sharply through the bell tower. It was a dizzying look down to the street.

Just then the clock struck and the bells chimed again. The sound was still deafening, but Charlie had become used to it. He was fascinated by the huge bells and watched them throughout their chiming. It was the quarter hour, so Big Ben did not sound.

Then he wondered how he had wound up in the Tower. He went to the door which led to the stairway. It was locked. There was nothing in the tower that he could use to break the glass. He was hungry and cold. It began to rain and the wind sprayed the drops almost horizontally through the Tower. He pulled his coat around himself and sat down next to the door, contemplating how he might escape.


	6. Emily's Note

CHAPTER 6 - Emily's Note

Holmes was deep in thought. Sitting by the fireplace, a soft crackling flame lent warmth to the room on this cool May evening. His eyes closed, one might think he was sleeping, but Watson knew better. Holmes' amazing mind was going over each fact in logical order.

Holmes opened his eyes. "Watson, give me the facts…"

"Holmes, you know the facts…"

"I said, Watson, give me the facts!" he repeated sharply. "Then tell me where the facts are leading…"

"All right, Holmes. We know that some type of plot is afoot, probably to steal the famous gemstone from the British Museum. We have a cryptic list. We have a missing night watchman. We believe Moriarity is behind this. The night watchman could have been abducted by Moriarity's men, whom we believe to be the men seen by several onlookers. They were carrying what could be a man. That's all we know…"

"You are assuming that our Charlie has been abducted by Moriarity. Why?"

"That's a quandary, Holmes. Why would he even need Charlie? Perhaps Charlie wasn't kidnapped. He may have just vanished of his own free will."

Holmes stood up and walked to the window. "No, Watson. Very unlike this man. I have been doing a bit of checking on him. Charlie is known to be very precise about everything. He is always on time, going by the Great Clock and his own pocket watch. He is never late, according to Miss Denison. But you are correct in asking…why was Charlie kidnapped? Obviously Moriarity needs him for something." He turned toward the door. "We have company, Watson."

There was a knock on the door and Watson opened it to Jim, the 10 year old street urchin, one of the network of boys and an occasional girl who often brought news and information to Holmes.

"What have you got for me, Jim?" asked Holmes.

"Miss Denison ask'd me t' bring y' thi' note, Mr 'Olmes…" The raggedy boy handed Holmes a note and Watson gave him a penny in return. "Thank y', guv," said the boy, smiling, who ran off again, down the stairs and into the night.

Holmes opened the note which read, _Mr Holmes, Charlie send a boy to me sayin he will be late…he was offerd a job…this bein Tuseday last…he will not be by for breckfas after work but will come bfore the noon toime. I did not receve the message bcause the child fergets to tell me until now. Me Charlie does not read nor write, but he send message by the boys who will do it for a penny. Regards, Emily Denison_

"Another confirmation that Charlie has been kidnapped. He was offered a job Tuesday last and disappeared the following morning. He did not want Miss Denison to worry, thus the message which fortunately was not delivered."

"Fortunately? Don't you mean _un_fortunately?"

"No. Miss Denison would not have been concerned as quickly if she had received the message on time."

"Very true. So where do we start?"

"The British Museum, the Great Clock, the night watchman, the Blue Diamond of Casablanca…Things are about to unfold, Watson…"


	7. Locked in the Tower

CHAPTER 7 - Locked in the Tower

Charlie had just about despaired of ever getting out of the bell tower. There were no tools about and the glass on the door was thick and unbreakable. He was feeling light-headed and headachy from lack of fluids and so cold he couldn't feel his toes anymore. He curled up in the cobwebby stone corner near the door and tried to conserve warmth. Being damp from the rain didn't help. He knew eventually someone would be coming to the clock room below to wind the great clock. It was wound three times a week. He hoped this was one of the days. Perhaps if he could get their attention…even though the clock room was a storey below the bell tower. He was so tired, but as soon as he fell asleep, the Great Clock would chime and awaken him.

The clouds cleared after a bit, the rain stopped and the day became warmer, and although the breezes wafting in through the open slits in the bell tower were still cool, they were warmer than earlier. Rays of sunlight came in through the west side of the tower and Charlie went to sit in the rays of sunlight to warm up. Suddenly, the locked door burst open and Moriarity with his two henchmen entered the bell tower. Charlie stood up and wasn't sure if he was glad to see them or not.

In a sweeping glance, Moriarity took in the ropes laying on the floor and Charlie standing near the open window, looking a bit disoriented. "Well, my good man, you're not dead yet…excellent…are you amenable to helping us now.;?"

Charlie hadn't realized he had been somewhat deafened by the bells and he couldn't hear what Moriarity was saying. Moriarity signalled to one of the thugs who picked up Charlie and slung him over his shoulder. Charlie didn't object. He just wanted to be out of the bell tower.

Surprisingly, Charlie was taken to the clock room below. The massive clock sounded alive as its gigantic pendulum moved slowly at the bottom of the clock and extended into the room below, in an enclosed area built especially for the pendulum. The voice of the escapement ticking was loud enough for Charlie to hear it.

Even though there was no heat in the clock room it was warmer than the bell tower because the winds didn't swirl through it. One could hear the bells chiming above, but they were not so incredibly loud.

A heavy wooden table was set up in the corner of the room with two chairs. Moriarity told MacShayne to put Charlie down. He and Hunter left the clock room and locked the door. Charlie was baffled. MacShayne put some food in front of Charlie and told him to eat. Charlie felt better after eating.

"Mr MacShayne, can I ask y' wha's goin' on? An' please talk up, I can't 'ear y'…y'know, the bells." He touched his ear.

"The Professor wants to make sure you are going to do the job we hired you to do…"

"But why am I 'ere?"

"Just waitin'."

"What're y' goin' t' do when th' fella comes wha' winds th' clock?"

MacShayne laughed. "Yer lookin' at 'im."

Charlie was becoming a bit of a problem for Moriarity. He was very reluctant to do the job, even though Moriarity offered him more money. Still sitting in the clock room, by himself now, Charlie tried to think of a plan to get away. The thought crossed his mind that he must get out of this place soon before he became permanently deaf. Suddenly he looked up and Moriarity stood before him.

Charlie looked at Moriarity, but didn't say anything.

"Are you ready to start earning your keep, my boy?" asked Moriarity, almost jovially.

The night watchman shrugged his shoulders. Moriarity sat down at the wooden table and spread out a large folded paper. It was a crude diagram of the floor plan of the museum where the gemstone was being shown. Moriarity painstakingly explained to Charlie what he was to do.

"Do you understand, my lad?" asked Moriarity.

"Yeah, I unnerstan'." He looked at Moriarity with a determined look on his face. "But I still ain't doin' it!"

Moriarity paused and their glances met, one as stubborn as the other. Then Moriarity said, in a voice dripping with honey, "Do you know a small woman who lives with her father…down on the east end of town…by the name of Emily Denison?"

At the sound of Emily's name, Charlie was startled. He tried to keep calm. "I 'eard of 'er…so wha' of it?

"Very fortunate that you don't know her well. She is about to meet an untimely demise, dear boy."

Charlie couldn't help himself. He stood up and grabbed Moriarity's coat lapels. MacShayne and Hunter removed him and pushed him back down in his seat, holding him down.

"Don' y' dare 'urt a 'air on 'er 'ead!" yelled Charlie, enraged.

"All right, Charlie, I won't…_if_…you do exactly as I say…"


	8. The Job

CHAPTER 8 - The Job

Charlie appeared for his job at the appointed time. Strangely, through all the time that he had been abducted, he had not missed his regular night shift. To make sure Charlie would not get it into his head to disappear, MacShayne and Hunter shadowed him, and made sure that he knew it.

Inside the museum, Charlie checked in and started his appointed rounds. Outside of himself and the two special guards for the exhibit, there was no one in the museum. He nodded to the guards as he went by. Charlie checked all the doors and other egresses then went down into the basement. He carefully unlocked a series of strange looking locks with several different keys on his key ring, then disabled an attached alarm. Opening the door quickly, he let in Moriarity and the two henchmen. Hunter and MacShayne stayed at the door and Charlie took Moriarity over to another specially locked room in the basement, which was situated immediately below the Blue Diamond's display case.

He explained that the display case was lowered into this basement room in order to put the diamond on display, then raised up into the museum proper. Both of these were accessible only with, again, special keys. Upstairs, the diamond was encased in a glass showcase, said to be unbreakable. It was rounded to allow the most viewing access. Enclosed within the glass were myriads of tiny wires, which, should the almost-unbreakable glass actually be shattered or broken in any way, would set off an alarm. Then a metal enclosure would come out of the ceiling to completely enclose the diamond. The only way to remove the metal enclosure would be to unlock it with a special key, kept on the person of the museum curator at all times. Therefore, it was extremely important not to break the glass or set off the alarm.

At this moment, the bottom of the diamond's case was visible if one looked up to the ceiling of the steel room. There was a round metal piston going up to the diamond's case and its movement in a cylinder was the means to bring the diamond down to the lower level. It was run on the principal of a hydraulic elevator only in miniature.

Charlie stood with his hands on his hips, glancing at Moriarity, waiting for his next move. Suddenly, a lot of noise, yelling and scuffling was heard just above the metal room. Moriarity looked at his pocket watch and waited a moment. Just as suddenly the noise ceased.

"All done, Prof," yelled MacShayne's voice from above.

Moriarity nodded at Charlie who, again, unlocked various places in the pedestal allowing access to the buttons controlling the electricity. After pushing several buttons in sequence, the pedestal made a mechanical noise and started slowly descending.

When it finally stopped, the huge diamond glistened and sparkled, even in the rather dim light of the enclosed room. Moriarity was transfixed by its beauty and gazed at it for several minutes. Then he pulled a blue velvet bag from his pocket and picked up the diamond. He placed it on his hand and stroked it almost lovingly. He placed it in the velvet bag and put it in his pocket, pulling out another bag, this one black velvet and removed another diamond that could have been a twin for the first one. He placed it on the pedestal and all the operations were reversed.

As Moriarity and Charlie emerged from the metal room, Moriarity spoke quietly. "Now you remember that you are to act as if nothing has happened."

"Wha' about' them guards?"

"My boy, don't you think I have thought of everything?" He sighed, but then with the élan of an egotist, explained. "The guards were put to sleep with a special drug that causes amnesia. They will not remember anything for weeks. MacShayne and Hunter have spirited them away. You of course, will go directly to the police and report the disappearance of the two guards, after your shift is over. You will report the incident to the museum officials at that time also."

"When c'n I go 'ome?"

"After your shift and after your reports to the police and the museum officials. Your job for us is essentially over."

"Wha' 'bout me pay?"

"Yes. The promised £100. Well, I shouldn't pay you anything, considering the trouble you've been. However, you did the job and I have the diamond. Here's £200. The extra hundred buys your silence, do you understand? Complete silence. One word and you have not seen the last or the worst of me! Can you do that?"

Charlie nodded solemnly.


	9. Dr Edward's Visit

CHAPTER 9 - Dr Edwards' Visit

At the end of his shift, Charlie did as Moriarity had commanded. He was wrestling with his conscience, but he didn't want anything to happen to Emily. He knew he was being watched by Moriarity's network of minions. He waited only until the two replacement guards and his own replacement had appeared for work, then went to the home of the curator. He only said that the two guards had disappeared beween his rounds, but the diamond appeared as before. The curator, Dr. Edwards, went with Charlie to the police in his carriage.

When it was heard that the night watchman and the curator from the British Museum were at the police station, Inspector Lestrade was called.

Lestrade, a small sallow man, who often traded information with Sherlock Holmes, listened as Charlie told his story.

"And so, the Diamond is still in the Museum? The guards disappeared and the Diamond is still there? Sounds pretty fishy to me, Mr Charlie."

"Y' c'n look…th' di'mond is still there…I seen it wi' me own eyes. Now I need t' ge' back 'ome…"

"All right, you can go, but don't go far away. I think there's more questions I will have for you after some investigatin'."

* * *

Dr. Edwards, the curator, after a lengthy visit to the museum that day, stopped at 221B Baker Street in the late afternoon.

Holmes and Watson were both in and Watson welcomed the curator and had Mrs Hudson bring him some tea.

Holmes said, "And why have you come to pay us a visit, Dr Edwards?"

"Mr Holmes, I don't want this to be available to the press yet, until I have thought about how to handle it. The Blue Diamond of Casablanca is no longer in the Museum."

"Oh?" Holmes raised an eyebrow, but did not look surprised.

"I don't know if you have heard," the curator went on, "but after his shift this morning, our night watchman reported that the two special guards assigned to the Blue Diamond were missing. He said he didn't know anything more about it. He said the Blue Diamond was still in its protective case, and nothing more seemed amiss.

"However, I didn't believe him. He didn't seem himself and I thought I would take a closer look. Deciding to close the Museum for the day, I removed the Diamond from its case and examined it closely. I called in one of my experts, a master jeweller, who examined it also. He proclaimed it counterfeit. It is a very excellent likeness, but it does not hold up under close examination."

"I assume it was examined when you first received it, to make sure a fake had not been substituted at that time?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes, we examine every piece that comes into the Museum closely. There could be no mistaking this…the gem that we received was the real one and the one that is there today is most definitely a fake!"

"And how do you think the deed was done?"

"My night watchman. He has all the keys and knows how to get into all the different areas."

"Where would he get such a brilliant fake?"

"He must be working with someone…I don't know…I truly trusted him, but I believe he's lying now."

"Let me talk to him, I may be able to get at the truth."

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. If there is any hope that this scandal would not get out to the public, I would be most grateful." Holmes nodded.

Watson showed Dr Edwards to the door, then sat across from Holmes, who had his eyes closed again. He knew not to disturb Holmes when he was thinking.


	10. The Letter

CHAPTER 10 - The Letter

Charlie arrived home, but even before stopping at his own place, rapped on Emily's door. She opened the door. "Charlie!" she said, excitedly. "Yer safe! Come in…"

They embraced and kissed. Charlie gave Emily's father a hug too. "Where ya been, lad?" asked Mr Denison.

"It's a long story, Suh," said Charlie. "I ain't s'posed t' tell no one…."

"Y' c'n tell us, Charlie," said Emily. "We're fam'ly…well, a'mos'…soon's we're married…"

"Yeah. I done a extra job an' was paid £200 fer it…"

"Oh, Charlie…we c'n ge' married sooner then, can't we?"

"Yeah."

"Y' don' sound 'appy 'bout it, Charlie…."

"It ain't tha'…it's th' money…it's tainted…I don' wan' it."

"Wha' d' y' mean?" asked Mr Denison.

"I can't tell yer…we'd all be in danger…tha's all I c'n say…"

The door was still open and the postman poked his head in. "Letter fer y'," he said, as he handed Charlie an official looking letter."

Charlie nodded his thanks and handed the letter to Emily. "Read it fer me, Em, please." He sat down at the table, having a feeling that he knew what was coming.

The letter, from the Museum curator, read, in part, _"Your services are no longer required at the British Museum. You may return your keys immediately at the office during Museum hours and you will be given your final cheque in return."_

"Charlie," said Emily, "this means y' go' th' elbow!"

"Yeah, Em. Thought as much. No' s'prised, am I." He looked very sad. Emily stood behind him and put her arms around his neck.

"So why they le' y' go, lad, don't allow no extra job on th' side?" asked Mr Denison.

"I done a bad thing, Suh, can't say no more." With that Charlie put on his jacket, bowler, took his bamboo cane and unceremoniously walked out the door.

"Charlie, don't go!" cried Emily.

"Le' 'im go, Em, 'e need t' be alone…" Emily hugged her father and she started to sob.


	11. The Professor's Visit

CHAPTER 11 - The Professor's Visit

Charlie walked for hours, just wandering the streets, wondering what to do. He really wanted to tell the Denisons what had happened, more than that, he wanted to go to the police with the truth. But he didn't dare. Moriarity would surely do something to his beloved Emily. Without a job, there was nothing to keep him in London. Perhaps he should disappear for good and find work somewhere else. He still had the £200 on him. He wanted to make sure the money would get to Emily and her father. At least his evil deed would have some good consequences.

The former night watchman walked along the river bank looking down at the water. Tired and a bit mesmerized by its gentle movement he sat down on a bench and stared at the water.

A few minutes later the little man was startled by a tapping on the bench at his side. He looked up to see a tall bobby standing behind the bench. He was tapping the bench with his truncheon. Charlie jumped up and tipped his hat to the officer. "I'll be goin'…" he said as he started to leave.

"Just a minute, where do ye think yer off to?"

"I ain't done nothin', Officer; I'll jus' be 'eadin' 'ome."

"Sleepin' on a park bench, is it? Come along with me, and don't be resistin' arrest or I'll write ye up for that also."

Confused, Charlie went along with the officer, wondering if the robbery was going to be pinned on him. The officer took him to Scotland Yard, but paused just inside of the building. They went into a tiny room and Charlie looked at him strangely as he pulled off his coat and bobby hat, and laid them on a chair. He placed his truncheon on top of them Under the officer's uniform he was wearing regular street clothing. Charlie was getting ready to bolt when the man said," Charlie, don't go anywhere. I'm Sherlock Holmes."

He led Charlie over to Inspector Lestrade's office and they closed the door.

"Well Charlie, yer back…why're y' 'ere?" asked Lestrade.

"He has a story to tell us, Lestrade. Go ahead, Charlie."

"Don't know nothin'," said Charlie, sullenly. He was tired of being dragged about at the whim of others. The first chance he could find to get away, he would take it.

"What yer 'ave in yer pockets, Charlie? Put it all 'ere, on th' desk." Charlie detached his pocket watch from his vest and laid it on the table. He pulled out his pocket knife, his tattered handkerchief and a handful of change. He set down a box of cigarettes, a cigar and matches, followed by a clothes brush.

"Tha's all."

"I know there's more, Charlie," said Holmes.

Charlie reached in his inner coat pocket and pulled out the £200. Lestrade picked it up and examined it closely.

"Tha' money is fer me girl, Emily Denison. She ain't go' much, she needs it badly."

"Where did you get it, Charlie? Steal it?"

"No, no, come by it hones' ly."

"Honestly, Charlie?" asked Holmes. "By helping Professor Moriarity steal the Blue Diamond of Casablanca?"

Charlie stared at Holmes for a moment in disbelief. "Yeah. I done that." Charlie hung his head in shame.

"Tell us the whole story, Charlie," said Lestrade, abandoning his abrasive tone for a gentler one.

Charlie told the whole story, from the meeting with Moriarity with the promise of a job, through the kidnapping in the Tower, the stealing of the Diamond and the homecoming, after which he found out that he was terminated as the night watchman.

"We need yer t' put tha' confession in writin', Charlie."

"I…uh…don't wanna do tha', Inspector."

"If yer can't or don't wanna write it, yer can dictate it and it can be typed up." Charlie nodded.

"Oh, an' Charlie, I 'ave some bad news fer ya…", said Lestrade.

Charlie didn't say anything. He didn't want to hear any more bad news.

"These 'undred pound notes…counterfeit…sorry to tell yer that."

"Yeah. Shoulda e'spected it. So 'ow long I 'afta stay in gaol?"

"You ain't under arrest, Charlie," said Lestrade. "But if we let yer out there, Moriarity will know yer spilt th' beans t' us. So…Mr 'Olmes…"

"You're coming home with me, Charlie. We will get word to Miss Denison that you are safe. We are looking for Moriarity. He has the Diamond. I don't believe he's fled to the continent yet as he often has in the past. He will be staying with us just long enough to find out if you are trustworthy. Since you've told all, your life won't be worth a broken ha'penny if he finds out. The safest place will be with Watson and me."

They dressed Charlie in the bobby uniform and headed for Baker Street.

After receiving word, via Jim's services, that Charlie was all right and that Sherlock Holmes was on the case, Emily Denison breathed a sigh of relief. Charlie had looked so despondent when he had left her flat, that she wondered what he was about to do. She decided to call on Mr Holmes tomorrow to find out what was happening. She asked Susan to again look in on her father while she was away.

* * *

Much later, Emily heard a pounding on her door. In the distance Big Ben chimed eight o'clock pm. She opened the door. There was a tall man wearing an Inverness cloak and top hat standing in the doorway. He smiled kindly. "I have news of your Charlie. Make haste to dress and I will take you to him."

The early May night was crisp, so Emily put on her black frock coat and bonnet. She put a warm cloak over it, pulled on her gloves and whispered to her father that she was going to see Charlie. Her father nodded.

Riding in the carriage with the tall man dressed in black, Emily began to wonder why she had foolishly taken up with a complete stranger. Of course, it was because she wanted to see Charlie, but she wondered if this had been a wise decision.

Emily studied the man's face. He was perhaps 60 years of age and very thin. His face was craggy and when he smiled, although Emily had taken it as kindness earlier, he hardly seemed sincere. She didn't like the look of his hands, his fingers were long, but claw-like, with long, discoloured nails.

"Feeling a bit disquieted, my lady?"

"No, Suh. I'm foine." Even with the cloak and the coat on, Emily was feeling cold. She didn't think it was the weather, it was more like the company.

"You may call me 'Professor', dear lady. And I know your name is Emily Denison. May I call you 'Miss Denison.'"

"Yes, Suh, P'fessor."

"How did you meet your Charlie, Miss Denison?"

Even though Emily didn't want to talk to this man, he had a rather charming way about him and was gradually putting her at ease. By the time they arrived at their destination, Emily was feeling more comfortable with the man. She was looking forward to seeing Charlie too, and was talking much more freely now.

Emily alit from the carriage, as did the Professor. Before she had time to wonder why they were standing at the doorway to the Great Clock of Westminster, a large hulking man unlocked the door and let them in.

"Why are we 'ere, P'fessor?" asked Emily.

"You want to see your Charlie, don't you?"

"Yeah…but is 'e 'ere?"

"Most certainly, Miss Denison. Keep climbing the steps…there are well over 300 of them. Should you tire, Mr Hunter would be most happy to carry you."

"I c'n do it…"

Finally arriving at the clock room, Hunter unlocked the door and let Emily in. She didn't see Charlie anywhere.

"Where's me Charlie?" asked Emily.

"He'll be here shortly," said Moriarity.

Realizing she was inside the Great Clock of Westminster, she started looking about in amazement. She could see the ponderous pendulum bob, 13 feet long, and weighing almost 700 pounds, causing the ticking of the escapement every 2 seconds, moving in its own special well below the floor. There were three huge weights hanging from the lower part of the clock. She wondered how this gigantic mass of great wheels, gears and parts she had no idea what to call could make a clock run. Of course this _was_ the clock.

Suddenly there was a great sound of machinery working as the clock made ready to chime. Fly fans on the wall, meant to slow down the descent of the weights, added to the din as the huge bells above her began to chime. Emily stood watching, looking up. In the midst of the din, someone grabbed her from behind and put something over her face. She struggled for a moment, then blacked out completely.


	12. The Note

CHAPTER 12 - The Note

About half-past eight, Jim, the little street urchin, was running along an alleyway. He sat down on the steps of an old house. Much earlier he had pinched a bit of food from a street vendor. He ate his ill-gotten food hungrily. He was just checking his pockets to see how many pennies he had accumulated in the past few days, when he looked up to see someone standing directly in front of him.

A bit startled, Jim stood up and tipped his cap to the man politely. He backed up a bit on the steps. "I ain't stole no money…." said Jim.

"Did I say you had?" asked the tall stranger. His black silk hat and cloak made his craggy skin look paler than it was. He looked a bit frightening, even though he was smiling.

"No," said Jim.

"Perhaps you would like to earn a few more pennies to add to your collection. I dare say this is even worth a shilling or two."

Jim's eyes grew wider, always ready to do a job to make a bit of money. The man handed him 2 shillings, a veritable fortune for the boy.

"Wha' would y' 'ave me to do fer y'?" asked Jim.

"You can take this note to Mr Sherlock Holmes. I trust you know where 221B Baker Street is…"

"Yes, Suh! I mos' cert'nly do!"

"Then off with you…go directly there!"

Jim tipped his cap to the man and ran down the street a ways. Looking back, and not seeing the man, he opened the note and read it. Then he ran the rest of the way to Baker Street.

Jim pulled open the door and flew by Mrs Hudson, ran up the steps and knocked loudly on the door. "Mr 'Olmes, Mr 'Olmes!"

Watson opened the door. "Mr Holmes is not about, Jim…"

"I 'ave a message fer 'im…" he looked surprised when he saw Charlie sitting in one of the chairs. "I mean fer Mr Charlie…" He went over to Charlie and whispered in his ear, pressing the paper into his hand. Charlie looked startled. He looked down at the folded paper and put it in his pocket. Jim left without even asking for his penny reward. He was gone in a flash.

Charlie stood up, unsure of what to do. "I should be goin'; believe I overstay'd me welcome…"

Watson pushed him gently back down in his seat. "You're here for your own protection, Charlie. We're not keeping you prisoner, but you are safer here than anywhere else. What did Jim tell you?"

"Said Miss Denison's father is ill," lied Charlie. "Should go 'elp 'im."

"Are you sure that's what the message was?"

"Pos'tive."

"I am sure that Miss Denison will take good care of her father if he is ill. You must have patience, Charlie. You must stay here for your own well being."

"Yeah," Charlie said sullenly.

"There is a spare room with a bed…" He pointed. "If you need anything, I'll be here."

"Yeah. Thank y', Suh." Charlie went into the room and closed the door.

Watson sat down in Holmes' leather chair next to the fireplace and put his legs on the ottoman. He reached for a book and started to read. Soon he had nodded off.

* * *

Watson woke up with a start. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He sat up in the chair and reached for his book which had fallen to the floor. He glanced over at the door to the small spare room. The door was still closed. He opened the book and started to read. Then he closed it again.

Holmes would have persuaded Charlie to let him read the note. Watson's eye travelled to a white speck on the floor. He went over to pick it up. It was a small piece of paper folded several times. Opening it, he could see it was a handwritten note. It read:

"_I am lockd up inside the great clock. Plese rescue me. Emily Dennison."_

Watson knocked on the door of the spare room. "Charlie? Are you there, Charlie?" There was no answer. Watson flung the door open and the bed was still made. There was no sign of Charlie. Watson pulled on his greatcoat and flew down the stairs and out the door. It was twelve forty-five in the morning.


	13. The Plot

CHAPTER 13 - The Plot

Some hours earlier, Holmes had vacated his rooms to try to pick up Moriarity's trail. At 9:00 pm, Jim had come to give his message to Holmes, but since he had read it himself, gave Charlie the message, thinking it meant for him. Charlie had bided his time until he was sure that Watson was asleep, then he snuck out the door quietly. He hadn't remembered that his left pocket, where he had secreted the note Jim had given him, had a large hole. As he was exiting, the note that he couldn't read anyway also exited his pocket and deposited itself on the floor where it was found by Dr Watson a bit later.

It was nearly ten o'clock before Charlie could leave Baker Street. He rushed as fast as he could to the clock tower. He couldn't stand the thought of Emily being in danger. He wondered if Moriarity were after her and if she were hiding in the Clock Tower, somehow having been locked in. He was grateful she had had time to write him a note. He was a few steps away from the door of the Clock Tower when he stopped, still in his reverie. That didn't make sense. Emily wouldn't have sent him a written note; she knew he couldn't read. He felt a lump in his throat and in the back of his mind realized it was probably a trap. But he put those thoughts out of his mind. He needed to focus on rescuing Emily, if she were really there. He had to take the chance. As he arrived at the lower door of the Great Clock's Tower, it was open and strangely, no one was about.

Charlie took the steps two at a time and kept up his fast pace until he reached the clock room, breathing heavily. Jim had said Emily's words on the note were that she was in "the clock tower," so Charlie assumed the clock room, not the bell tower. Again, strangely, the door was unlocked. Charlie looked around the room and spotted Emily lying on top of the wooden table. He tried to wake her to no avail. She was breathing, but not responsive. He picked her up carefully and sat in one of the chairs cradling her in his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. He talked to her and touched her face, trying to awaken her. He was so intent that he didn't hear the door open and close until he saw Moriarity again standing before him, this time with his two henchmen.

"Put her back on the table, Charlie," commanded Moriarity.

"Wha' are y' plannin' t' do wi' 'er?" said Charlie, still holding Emily.

"Nothing, Charlie. Just set her back on the table."

"No! Yer le' us go!"

Moriarity motioned to Hunter, who took Emily away from Charlie and pushed him back roughly in the chair. He tied Charlie to the chair.

"Wha' y' wan' wi' us?" said Charlie. "An' Em'ly, she ain't done nothin'…"

"No she hasn't. But I can't risk having you out there to tell everyone what really happened, can I? Your Miss Denison is a lovely girl. I enjoyed her company for the few minutes that we were able to converse. And she brought you here as easily as a mouse kills itself in a trap for want of a simple piece of cheese.

"And now for the denouement…when you awaken you shall have but a few minutes with your beloved before the Great Clock of Westminster blows itself apart. Yes…literally. We will, by that time, have placed an explosive in a crucial part of the clock and when the Great Bell chimes its note for one a.m., it will be not only the last of you and your Miss Denison, but the clock will have caused itself terrible damage, perhaps irreparable, perhaps not. But it will be enough that the City of London will lose its great landmark and symbol, at least for quite some time.

"In addition to the execution of the criminal, which is you, of course, you who not only stole the Blue Diamond of Casablanca, now unrecoverable, but also put the explosives in the clock, will unfortunately, be caught by your own dastardly deed. Unluckily for her, Miss Denison is an innocent caught up in the fray. It is her bad fortune to have fallen in love with you.

"One more thing, even the bells will not survive the explosion. The ceiling of this room will be blown away, causing the bells to become unstable and most likely come crashing down into the clock room, and likely much further down the Tower. So, dear lad, if you do, by some fortunate chance, survive the explosion, you will not escape the wrath of the bells."

With that, Moriarity signalled to MacShayne, who put a rag over Charlie's face and waited until the little fellow slumped over. Moriarity injected a needle with a clear fluid into Charlie's arm. Then the three of them exited the clock room, locking it behind them.


	14. What to do?

CHAPTER 14 - What to do?

Sherlock Holmes knew that the best way of recovering the Blue Diamond of Casablanca was to try to capture Moriarity before he escaped to the continent. He was very good at vanishing into thin air. Holmes had discovered that, although Moriarity had abandoned the warehouse as his hide-out, he had left clues as to where he might be. The footprints that Holmes had spoken about to Watson, the ones he had found in the dust were an excellent clue. Holmes had made exact drawings of the shape and size of the four sets of prints. He checked them closely with a magnifying glass to find any bits of dirt or clay in the prints. In three of the sets, he was rewarded. The fourth he determined to be Charlie's prints, by visually examining his actual boots while he was in Holmes' presence.

In the three other sets of prints, Holmes found a bit of clay, similar in all three sets. Earlier, at home he had checked the samples under the microscope and determined them to be from a certain small rural area not far from the city. He now proceeded to that area.

Charlie awoke to Emily frantically shaking him. He didn't know where he was for a moment, then slowly started remembering. Emily untied him and told him the door was locked. She kissed him and put her arms around him, glad to see him again.

Charlie was feeling very sick from whatever had been used to put him to sleep. He felt dizzy and nauseated. He could barely think or see straight.

"Em, are we in the clock tower again?"

"Yeah, Charlie…"

"I can't think straight…there's somethin' import'nt I mus' remember…" He glanced a the great clock and then at his pocket watch again, several times. "Em, I remember…we mus' ge' out of 'ere…" He tried the door but Emily was correct, this time it was locked.

"One o'clock…somethin' will 'appen at one o'clock…the Great Clock…"

"The quarter bells jus' chimed as I was tryin' t' wake y' up, Charlie…it's three quarters pas' midnight…" said Emily. "someone'll be 'ere t' rescue us, won't they?"

"Dunno, Em. Can't count on no one…I gotta figure this one out fer mese'f."

"What's 'appenin', Charlie…I'm frightened…"

"Sit down, Em. I mus' think 'bou' this…don't talk roigh' now." Charlie kept looking at his watch, trying to remember what terrible thing that was about to overtake them. Explosives…that was it!…he suddenly remembered… and there was less than fifteen minutes until the explosives would detonate, if Moriarity were telling the truth!

Unbeknownst to Emily, or for that matter, Moriarity and his henchmen, and even Holmes and Watson, Charlie had once been an apprentice to a clock maker. He knew enough about clocks to know how they worked and he took a few moments to observe this clock, more carefully than before. He was still struggling to think…the drug, whatever it was, wasn't wearing off.

Charlie could see that the clock, like most Tower clocks with strikes and chimes, had three trains or distinct parts that performed separate functions, but that they also worked together as a unit, connected by huge gears. The going train was the centre part of the clock controlling the other two trains and also controlled the hands on the four faces. To the right, the quarter train controlled the four bells which chimed every quarter hour. To the left was the hour train which controlled the striking of the Great Bell, Big Ben, each hour. Charlie knew this was the place where the explosive would be placed, since it was set to go off at one o'clock. The start of the hour was counted from the time the Great Bell struck its first note on the hour, not from the chiming of the quarter bells, which were heard before the hour bell.

Each train had a weight which provided the power to the clock. The weights would be wound three times a week. The pendulum controlled the speed of the clock and the escapement allowed the going train's weight to descend at a consistent rate so that the clock would keep correct time.

Charlie looked at the steel wire which ran upward from the hour train to the bell tower above. A thin wire had been attached to this wire and to a bundle of something that Charlie knew shouldn't be there. Seeing this, he knew immediately this was the explosive. At one a.m., the pull on this wire from the hour train which should pull on the hammer to cause Big Ben's voice, would also pull this foreign wire and set off the explosives.

Charlie, still groggy, had to move fast and he had to stop the clock. He rubbed his eyes. _"Think…think…think…" _he said over and over in his mind.


	15. The Vicar

CHAPTER 15 - The Vicar

How does one stop an ordinary clock? Stay the pendulum with your fingers and the clock will stop. But this pendulum was 13 feet long and weighed over 700 pounds. He looked down into the specially built pendulum well which extended into the room below. It was a huge area, built of metal and brick. Then he looked around the clock room. There were some boards, thick, large and long, that looked like they were going to be made into a scaffold to climb upward to look more closely at the gears and wheels mounted high on the wall. This was the machinery that controlled the hands of the four clock faces.

Charlie dragged one of the heavy boards and placed it in the pendulum well. It broke in two as soon as the pendulum hit it. Not discouraged, he dragged another board to the well. It broke as well. He looked quickly at his pocket watch…five more minutes!

Charlie kept placing more boards to each side. The pendulum had less space to move and seemed to be moving slower. But it must be stopped! There was only one minute left and there were no more boards…

Looking quickly around the room, Charlie could see nothing else to throw in the well except…

"Em'ly…'elp me push th' wood table over 'ere…" The quarter bells started to chime. `The two pushed the heavy wood table over to the well and shoved part of it in…and the pendulum stopped! It had no more room to move and was stilled. The force of the heavy pendulum had broken many of the thick boards and it would be a mess to clean up, but at least the clock was stopped. All the wheels had stopped rotating and the room was strangely quiet.

* * *

Much earlier that day, a travelling vicar was seen walking along a dirt road in a rural area near the outskirts of the city. He was tall, with white hair and rimless square glasses, wearing a wide brimmed black hat. His long black coat and trousers were dusty. He carried a small carpetbag and walked with the aid of a gnarled wooden walking stick.

He stopped at every house along the road and asked the whereabouts of a certain man he was acquainted with. He was invited in many times to rest his weary feet and take a cup of tea, but he turned down all invitations graciously, saying he was in a hurry to find his acquaintance. He was seen to occasionally stoop down and look carefully at the dirt on the road, putting some of it in his hand and sift it through his fingers, then amble on his way.

Finally, at a local pub, the vicar was given a tip that someone had seen his acquaintance. The vicar found the house, made of stone and very old and broken down. In fact, it looked as if it had been abandoned. However, he knocked at the door. There was no answer and he pushed open the door. A craggy-faced man was sitting at a table with books in front of him, in which he was writing. He looked up as the Vicar pushed open the door.

"My good man, can you find it in your heart to let me rest at your abode for just a bit. I have had a long and tiring journey."

"Go on your way, Vicar. I have no need of preaching here."

"Please, all I want is a few moments' rest and perhaps a cup of water. You would not deny a vicar a cup of water, would you? And I promise you, not one word of preaching…"

"Very well, but you will have to get your own water. There is a cup at the sink." The man was clearly irritated.

The Vicar entered the house, a dilapidated structure inside as well. He poured himself water from the pump at the sink. He sat on a chair and watched the man who sat at a wooden table, writing and marking figures in a book. The Vicar watched intently as he drank his cup of water very slowly.

The Vicar looked all around the one-room structure, searching out every nook and cranny with his eyes. Finally, Moriarity, for that's who the man at the desk was, looked up. The Vicar was somehow unnerving him. "What do you want, Vicar? I have no need of preaching, as I said before. Do you want something else?"

The Vicar smiled and said, "No, no, I don't want anything else. Your hospitality has been splendid. You will be blessed for taking pity on a poor traveller."

"I said, I am not interested in preaching. You may leave…immediately."

The Vicar arose and shrugged. "Still I thank you for your hospitality." He left the house and went on his way. Or so the inhabitant of the broken down stone house thought.


	16. We meet again

CHAPTER 16 - "We meet again."

Dr Watson had run down the stairs and out the door. He was headed to the Great Clock, as per the note that Charlie had received. He started to think about the note, then stopped abruptly. The note didn't really make any sense. Emily wouldn't have written a note to Charlie. She knew he couldn't read. The note also didn't seem very frantic coming from a woman who was supposedly held prisoner inside a clock tower all alone. And the last thing, _she had spelled her own name wrong!_ Granted, the woman might have spelled other words wrong, but hardly her own name!

Watson didn't know what Emily's handwriting looked like, but he knew this note couldn't have come from her. Jim would have been able to tell him, but the boy wasn't about.

Watson walked faster and soon saw the Great Clock. The clock face said that it was just before one o'clock. Watson checked his own pocket watch to see if it was on time. It was. Just then the quarter bells began to chime. Then there was the pause just before the Great Bell, Big Ben, would ring one time for one o'clock a.m. The pause seemed longer than normal. It dragged on and on…the Great Bell never did strike.

* * *

The Vicar walked to the nearest town, a short distance away and sent a telegram. Then he came back to the cottage and entered a nearby woodshed, biding his time. He took from his carpetbag a small stick of something with a fuse on it. It was similar to a fire cracker, except it was not meant to make noise, just a great deal of smoke. He also changed clothes, putting his black clerical garb away and putting on a brown jacket. He removed his white wig and eyebrows, revealing dark, slicked back hair underneath.

He lit the object with the fuse and threw it through the open window, then walking around to the front of the house, watched through a front window. At first Moriarity did not arise from his seat at the table. Then he noticed the smoke. He glanced up at a cupboard across the room and put down his fountain pen. He stood up.

"Stay where you are," came a voice from the doorway. Startled, Moriarity turned to view Sherlock Holmes framed in the doorway and aiming a revolver at him.

"Holmes," said Moriarity, in his honey-laden voice. "We meet again."

"Yes. Always under these circumstances, though. Moriarity, you know what I want."

"You'll never get it! I went to a great deal of trouble to steal the Blue Diamond and now it's mine!"

"It doesn't belong to you, me or even the British Empire. It's a valuable possession of the country of Morocco. Give it to me, Moriarity."

"You think I would keep it here? Hardly! It could be stolen too easily."

"Who would think that it would be here?" asked Holmes. "I believe this to be an ideal hiding place. Hand it over, Moriarity. You know I will not hesitate to shoot…"

"I doubt it, Holmes…" said Moriarity. "You have morals. You forget that I have very few…."

"I haven't forgotten, Professor. It's quite a shame, a learned man like yourself, stooping to thievery."

"Ah, but what bliss to behold the exquisite blue of the Diamond. The sparkling facets…to feel its weight in your hand…to caress its smooth, yet expertly cut surface. It is a delight…"

"You act as though the Blue Diamond were a woman…"

"Perhaps she is…and one who will never be untrue…"

"Moriarity, hand it over, now…"

Holmes stepped a few feet closer to Moriarity. The Professor suddenly jumped at Holmes, taking him by surprise and knocking the gun out of his hand. The two men rolled over and over on the floor, each trying to reach for the revolver. Each got in a few blows to the other; both were quite well matched. Holmes suddenly felt Moriarity's hands around his neck, pressing tighter and tighter. He felt himself unable to breathe…

Suddenly there was a sound as the door was flung open again. Lestrade and several of his men rushed in with guns. Lestrade and his men had to pull the two men apart. Holmes stood, trying to get his breath. Lestrade handcuffed Moriarity.

"You came just in time, Inspector…." said Holmes.

"I can see that, Mr 'Olmes…Lucky I got yer wire on time."

"Yes."

Lestrade turned to his men. "Take 'im away lads, and don't let 'im outa yer sight fer a moment. "E's a slippery one, 'e is!" Lestrade faced Holmes again. "I brought my own carriage so we could ride back. By the way, Mr 'Olmes, did yer recover the stolen gem?"

"It's in the cupboard, Lestrade." The Inspector opened the door of a cupboard bereft of anything except a velvet bag. He opened it and spilled the gem onto the table.

"Cert'nly does sparkle, don't it Mr 'Olmes," said Lestrade.

"Yes, it does. I will put it in your capable hands to return to the museum, Inspector. Now I have another matter to attend to. London awaits us."


	17. The Keeper

CHAPTER 17 - The Keeper

Dr Watson was standing a distance away from the Great Clock. He could see the whole clock tower and two of the faces. The Clock was still lit, but Big Ben had never struck his one o'clock note for this morning. Oddly, a crowd was gathering and milling about at the bottom of the Tower, down the street and across the Thames, gaping at the clock and wondering why the time had so suddenly stopped.

Watson pushed his way to the outside entrance to the clock tower. It was now ten minutes after the hour and the clock's hands had not moved. The Keeper of the Great Clock had already ascended the stairs, according to some onlookers. The lower door was locked. Watson waited with the crowd, hoping the Yard would show up soon.

Now that the clock had stopped, Charlie felt relief. He sank into one of the chairs and realized that the stress and whatever drug he had been given were taking a toll on him. He was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open. He and Emily were safe, but they were still locked in the tower. After the excitement of stopping the clock and the adrenaline which accompanied it, Charlie had been hot and the sweat was dripping off his face. Now, he was almost uncomfortably cold. Emily rubbed his shoulders.

He glanced up at Emily and squeezing her hand said, "Are y' warm enough, Em?" She smiled and nodded.

Wearily, Charlie got up and tried the door again. It was still locked. There was glass in the door and he wondered if he could break it with one of the wooden chairs. Suddenly there was someone at the door and Charlie backed away. Emily stood up.

A man with a gun entered the clock room and Charlie backed away even more.

"Did you stop the clock? How did you get in here? The Yard is on its way," said the man, not giving Charlie a chance to say a word. He waved them both to sit down on the chairs. "Well, speak up…who are you?"

"Suh, me lady Emily Denison 'ere an' meself were lock'd in this room. There's explosive attached to the wire goin' up to the bell strike 'ammer…I 'ad t' stop the clock or we an' the clock'd be blown t' smithereens. Sorry fer the mess I made in the pendulum well…" Charlie pointed.

The man, who was known as the Keeper of the Great Clock , and who had employed MacShayne as an assistant, kept the gun trained on Charlie as he looked at the mess in the pendulum well, then up at the foreign object on the thick wire leading up to the Great Bell's hammer. He looked stunned when he saw it.

"But how did you get locked up here?"

Just then Dr Watson, Inspector Lestrade and Sherlock Holmes burst in the door. Lestrade told the Keeper to put down his gun and explained what had happened. Holmes, who had wired Lestrade earlier, and captured Moriarity, had ridden back to London with Lestrade and their prisoner. Lestrade had Moriarity put in gaol and then went to the clock tower, on Holmes' advice. Arriving just as the throng was gathered about the foot of the clock tower, Holmes and Lestrade met Watson and gained entrance to the tower, shortly after the Keeper had entered.

Once the Keeper was satisfied that the two strange interlopers in the clock room were not up to anything, in fact, had saved the clock from destruction, he locked the room, saying the explosive would be removed immediately. But the pendulum would be cleaned tomorrow, the clock reset and started again, with no harm done, other than a few upset citizens. Of course it would be a sensational story for the local papers.

That night, or rather in the wee hours of the morning, Emily and Charlie returned to their respective abodes, being driven in a carriage, due to the kind courtesy of the Keeper of the Great Clock.


	18. Epilogue

CHAPTER 18 - EPILOGUE

"Holmes!" cried Watson, as he arrived at his friend's quarters at Baker Street. It was just two days after the Great Clock had been restored to service. "Did you see the morning news?"

"No, I haven't, Watson. But I believe it concerns the again unknown whereabouts of a certain Professor Moriarity."

Watson sat down in surprise. He put the paper on the table. "So how did you know?"

"I didn't. You told me by your excited entrance. What else could make you run up the stairs two at a time?"

"Yes, quite. The paper states somehow he vanished within the last two days from police custody. And he's been spotted on the Continent. France, this time."

"He'll be moving on….for now. I dare say it will be another bad day if he returns to England. I have spoken with Lestrade. He believes Moriarity's henchmen are still here. It's easy for them to disappear into the criminal underground. Lestrade says the Yard is still on the lookout for them."

"Well, at least there is some good news, said Watson, picking up the paper." It appears that our little night watchman Charlie has had his position restored to him at the Museum.

"Yes, Watson. Both Lestrade and I have written statements on his behalf and he has been cleared of all charges."

Watson was still reading. "It says that Parliament is looking into giving him a reward for saving the Great Clock. All Britain is grateful that it wasn't destroyed."

Watson looked up. Holmes was lighting his pipe, sitting in the leather chair next to the fireplace. "Yes, quite, Watson," he commented.

**THE END**


End file.
